


Discipline

by draculard



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Non-Consensual Spanking, Public Humiliation, Sub Poe Dameron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-15 00:11:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20609675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Holdo would be a very poor leader indeed if she didn't punish her officers when they make mistakes.Unfortunately for Poe, her definition of 'discipline' is a bit different from Leia's.





	Discipline

She pins him to the console and smacks his ass so fast and so hard and so unexpectedly that for a moment Poe forgets how to breathe. It’s a good long minute before his senses all come back online; first he processes the pale, shocked faces of the other Resistance soldiers staring at him. They all snap their mouths closed and avert their eyes around the same time Poe’s nerves catch up to current events and start screaming to him about the pain.

The pain in his ass.

The pain in his ass which he is currently feeling because Vice Admiral Amilyn goddamn Holdo just  _ spanked _ him.

“What,” says Poe, “the fuck?”

He tries to stand. Holdo’s dainty hand is pressing down between his shoulder blades with astounding strength, keeping him pinned. He can feel the buttons on the console digging into his ribs and her rings digging into his back.

“I’m disappointed in you, Captain,” says Holdo in a crisp, icy tone of voice which Poe feels would be better suited to a court-martial than to … whatever this is. He squirms beneath her hand, trying to get away, determinedly not looking at the various crew members who are still inhabiting the room.

_ Sticking around for the show,  _ he thinks darkly. He gets his elbows underneath him and uses them to inch away from Holdo; a second later, her free hand cinches around his left wrist and wrenches it back. She keeps it pinned at a painful angle while she collects his other hand and unites them behind his back.

“Fuck,” says Poe again. He hears a nervous titter from the audience; when he looks up, glaring, everyone is studiously looking away. Many of them are biting the insides of their cheeks.

And then Holdo spanks him again.

“Discipline,” she says with an incredible amount of dignity, “is the key to an efficient military. Would you agree, Captain?”

He’s inclined not to, right now. His ass cheeks are still stinging when she brings her hand down again, swinging it so hard that when it connects with the seat of his pants, it makes a loud slapping noise that fills the bridge.

This time, Poe can’t hold back a cry of pain; his cheeks are burning before the shout has even died on his lips. For the first time since Holdo pinned him here, he fights back in earnest, bucking and twisting in an attempt to get away. It’s like something has snapped in his brain: he realizes suddenly that this isn’t a joke, or some weird, quick occurrence he can laugh off afterward. This is  _ real, _ this is happening  _ right now, _ and it’s not going to stop unless he manages to get away.

He’s still fighting when she spanks him again. There’s an aborted whisper from one of the assembled crewmembers; the words are lost beneath Poe’s agonized shout. He bites his lip against any further noise; blood has rushed to his face, turning his skin an ugly shade of purple, and he can’t tell whether it’s embarrassment or rage or —

Or something worse.

He realizes, not without a certain degree of chagrin, that his cock is straining at his trousers. Behind him, though she can’t  _ possibly _ see that he’s hard from this angle, Holdo tsks. 

“At this point,” she says, voice heavy with mock sadness, “I’m afraid no amount of discipline will ever truly set you on the right path, Captain Dameron. It pains me to do this, truly.”

He chokes on a half-mad laugh. The sound dies in his throat when her free hand abruptly moves around his hips to the fly of his trousers. Her fingers brush his cock, making it twitch, making his hips buck against his will.

She freezes for just a moment when she feels his arousal. Then, with brisk efficiency, she undoes his fly with one hand  — and without hesitation, she pulls his trousers down to his knees. 

And now Poe is exposed, his ass cheeks a bright shade of pink, his cock bobbing against his stomach for everyone to see. The officers on the bridge stare openly, no longer averting their eyes. Some of them blush, but they do not look away, and Holdo shows no inclination to chastise them, to dismiss them, to save Poe from even a marginal amount of humiliation.

“Are you ready to be a good boy?” Holdo asks, mincing the words in her high-class accent, infusing them with a coldness that freezes Poe’s heart. 

His voice comes out weak and thin. His vision is blurring.

“Yes, Vice Admiral,” he says. It’s the answer she expected; there’s no pause between his words and her next.

“Then you’ll hold still for the rest of your punishment,” she says, grabbing him with clinical brusqueness by the hips to lift him off the floor.

When she pins him against the console again, he doesn’t fight back.

When she spanks him again, he twists his hips and he’s not sure if he’s trying to get away or if he’s arching his back for more.


End file.
